Book Title: You. Always you.
Author: M.E.
Publisher: Perin
Cover Artist: M.E.
Release Date: September 15, 2020
Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance
Trope/s: Mild age play, Daddy Kink, Power play, hurt/comfort
Themes: Toxic relationship, manipulation, humor,
erotic, heartache, open (happy) end
Length: 44 000 words/ 180 pages
It is a standalone story.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
A seductively toxic gay romance
Blurb
Whatever happened in your past, did not happen. And I am your only future.
I am obsessed with you; you’re obsessed with me.
You hurt me to comfort me.
You break me to put me back together.
And I do the same to you.
I am addicted to you; you’re addicted to me.
You told me this would be a bad idea.
You warned me of the heartache.
And I did it anyway.
I like you; you like me.
When I see you, my sun rises.
When I see you, it is summer in Berlin.
When I see you, I can still hear us laugh.
But I wasn’t gonna go, and you weren’t gonna stay.
I wonder if your heart aches when you see me.
I wonder if your sun rises when you see me.
I wonder if you smile …
And if you do, will you stay?
Or will I go?
You. Always You. is a steamy 44k vignette about a toxic love story between two men. It features elements of romance, humor, hurt/comfort, a dash of violence, mild age play, and Daddy play. Approach with caution. You’ve been warned.
Shazam
You spent the night like you so often do, and I got us some bread rolls, croissants, and a few other items from the supermarket after my morning run. As soon as we’ve finished eating, you pick up your phone and scowl at it, obviously annoyed about something that’s happening on the screen. At least I’m not the source of your ire, but it does worry me nonetheless.
“You okay?” I ask. You just scowl harder, your eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You’re swiping right, left, tapping quickly.
“I am absolutely fucking infuriated,” you tell me through gritted teeth. No shit. We’re sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table, and although I hate when you are distracted by your phone when we’re together, I take the bait.
“What happened?” I probe, taking a sip of the freshly squeezed orange juice I got this morning.
“You know how when you Shazam something it automatically downloads the song for you? I use that quite a bit and it’s great, but for some fucking reason, Shazam has decided to download every single song I’ve shazamed even the ones I’ve already downloaded.” Oh. By the way you raise your voice, I can tell that you are furious.
“Okay?” I don’t follow. “Do you have to pay for this, or …?”
“No. I don’t. I just cannot stand when the formatting of my music gets fucked up. It genuinely pisses me off so much.” Ah, I see. I grin and shake my head, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing.
“What’s so funny about that? It just downloaded the songs against my will!” You huff out, your annoyance now focused on me.
“Nothing.” I lift my hands in surrender, but then … I chuckle. “You format your music a certain way?”
“Yes,” you deadpan and gaze at me for the longest moment. I can’t help it, I’m still grinning. As if you cannot stand my mockery, you finally get up.
“Baby,” I try to soothe you, reaching for your shirt. You twist away until I stand up and haul you in until you sit on my thigh. “Don’t mind me. I just like that you’re so passionate about your music.”
“You think I’m weird.”
“Passionate.”
“Which is just another expression for weird.” You’re still focused on your phone, reorganizing your music, even as I rest my chin on your shoulder. “Ughh,” you groan and wiggle as I fasten my arms around you. “It’s not even all of my tracks but just like fifty? How does that even make sense?”
I love how frustrated you can get over little things. Burying my face in the side of your neck, I suggest jokingly, “Maybe you downloaded the tracks in your sleep.”
You push me back so you can look at me, your expression serious. “Seriously?” you reply dryly. Like I’ve lost my mind.
“You do all kinds of things in your sleep …” Carefully, like I’m taking a toy from a riled-up German shepherd, I extract your phone from you and place it on the kitchen table.
“Dirty man.”
A peck to your lips makes you shift on my thigh; you rest your hands on my shoulders and narrow your eyes at me. “Did you just take my phone from me?”
“I might have,” I whisper with a smile, my tone bordering on seductive.
“Do that again and I’ll hurt you,” you warn me sweetly, your fingertips grazing the sides of my neck, teasing me there.
“Who says I wouldn’t like that?”
“You dirty, dirty man.”
M.E. are the initials of the two men who’ve created this story. One being the writer, the other being the muse.
Their story is brought to you by Perin from Quin & Perin
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